


Doomberries

by Shadsie



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Doomberries, F/M, Finding the Cure, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Using something from the classic series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 08:41:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20561444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadsie/pseuds/Shadsie
Summary: The deadly doomberry - a type of fruit notorious for its ability to erase a person from existence should they eat of it. The only cure for a doomberry-poisoning victim is for another person to weep genuine tears for them.A take on a narrative device from the Classic She-Ra series, the episode "My Friend, My Enemy" - for the modern series.After an assassination attempt, who will cry for a lonely soul?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Empress Futura and her country of Timely are not a part of either the new series or the classic series. Futura is my self-indulgent OC and Timely is my fan-kingdom. Neither actually feature in this story, they are merely given a mention as a way of greasing the plot. In Classic She-Ra, the origin of doomberries is not mentioned. They might be Etherian or Eternian, as in the OG series, Skeletor baked the doomberry pie. 
> 
> Yes. Skeletor baked a pie. Look it up. 
> 
> The names for the kitchen-staffers are not official. In my headcanon / used in another fic, Baker is "Judy Baker," Sodapop is "Sodapop Smith" (keeping his name and occupation the same inspired by the novel "The Outsiders," which had a character legally named Sodapop) and "Blue" for the assistant / Garco'n character was inspired by Mina Affairs' "The Lord and Lady of Dryl" stories.

**Doomberries: Part 1 **

“So, what are these? They’re glowing.”   
  
“They’re the key to our freedom!”   
  
Sodapop looked skeptically at the small crate containing strange berries. Baker was beaming. “It looks like my letter to those scavengers in Timely got through!” she chimed.   
  
“Are you sure we should go through with this?” Blue questioned. “We already risked our lives on that series of black-market trades with Horde soldiers. They don’t know what they did, but we do… it will be undeniable when… when the plan goes down.”   
  
“What plan? You made a plan without me?” Sodapop asked.   
  
“Well, yeah,” Baker explained. “You’ve got a big mouth on you. We were worried that you’d give things away to the Princess.”   
  
“So, what’s going on?”  
  
“Well,” the large woman answered, “Assassinations are never easy.”  
  
“Assassinations?!” the young man yelped.   
  
“Not so loud!” Blue clapped a hand over his mouth. “That damn imp-thing might be scuttling around! Not to mention the Princess! You know how she likes vents and ceiling-pipes!”   
  
The three looked around their kitchen nervously. They’d been assigned to their own corner of the Fright Zone ever since they were captured and forcibly brought here. They resumed their roles as Entrapta’s personal staff, much to their distaste. They’d all rather liked working with the Rebellion – also not dodging malfunctioning robots. Their dreams of freedom were gone. Well, until Baker had put her plan into motion.   
  
“This started months ago!” Blue said with a nod. Everyone dropped down to whispers.   
  
“These are doomberries,” Baker explained to Sodapop. “They are a fruit with magical properties. They are not readily poisonous, but are deadly under certain circumstances.”  
  
“How does that even work? A chemical reaction when they’re combined with something else?” the soda-brewer asked.   
  
“Nothing as mundane as that,” Baker explained as she rolled some pie dough out on a counter with a rolling pin. They have some quantum properties. If a person consumes them they will die within twenty-four hours from a fading sickness.”   
  
“I thought you said they weren’t poisonous.”   
  
“I never said that, just that they weren’t readily poisonous. A dose of these is survivable – provided the victim has someone to mourn their predicament. If no one sheds tears for them, they will fade from existence. If someone does weep for them, however, they will recover.”  
  
“Where do these things even come from?”  
  
“Some say from another world – so the myth goes, but these ones came from Timely. You remember – the kingdom that Dryl traded with for some time? Where all of the weird time and space fluctuations happen?”   
  
“Princess Entrapta almost never came home because she was so busy studying data.”  
  
“Exactly. Would that she’d stayed, huh?”   
  
“You don’t mean to murder our mistress, do you?” Sodapop inquired.   
  
“No, we do not,” Blue explained. “Although it is possible that she could become a secondary casualty. Look, do you want to get out of the Fright Zone or what?”  
  
“That I do.”   
  
Baker was pressing dough into the little cups on a mini-muffin tin. “We’ve noticed Hordak partaking of some of the snacks we make for Entrapta. He trusts us because we are faithful to her. If we leave a little treat in his lab or in his throne room unannounced, he is likely, at this point, to think it a gift from her and to consume it without question.”   
  
“He likes berry tarts, who knew?” Blue added. “Your cherry soda, too.”   
  
“I never bothered to spy on his habits,” Sodapop admitted.   
  
“In any case,” Blue continued, “I don’t think any of us can imagine anyone crying over Hordak.”   
  
“Not even Entrapta?”  
  
“She’s using him for science-advancement,” Baker said flatly. “Have you ever known her to be emotional? I mean, aside from the mania? He just brought her into his employ and he yells at her a lot, from what I’ve seen. I don’t even think that little imp of his would weep genuine tears over that man. If he is taken out, well, we’ll be heroes for the Rebellion. We’ll also have a chance to slip out while there’s some commotion and backstabbing among his forces. No one pays attention to the science officer’s personal kitchen-staff.”   
  
“You’re right!” Sodapop declared. “No one really does pay much attention to us, do they?”   
  
“Exactly,” Blue concluded. “Entrapta sends in that weird tank-bot of hers and that’s it. She trusts us.”   
  
“Isn’t this violating her trust?” Sodapop questioned. “I mean… Baker… what if she finds these tarts before Hordak does?” He sighed. “It’s unthinkable!”   
  
Baker looked at him sadly. “We’ve cared for her since her childhood,” she sighed. “We’ll have to be careful with our placement.” She was dropping berries into the crusted tins and sprinkling sugar atop them. She bent down and slid the tin into an open oven. “Hopefully, she won’t find our surprise before he does, but that is a risk we must take if we want to be free. I also don’t think she’d have a hard time finding someone to shed tears for her, seeing her sick. Isn’t she friends with that Catra-girl and that scorpion-person?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sodapop said.   
  
At that moment, he was all in on this conspiracy.  
  
__________________________________________  
  


“Hordak? HOOOORDAK!”   


Entrapta bounded into to the throne room on her hair, Emily toddling behind her. The Horde’s overlord wasn’t in his sanctum, so, naturally, she thought he’d be here.   
  
“I can’t find my six-sided hex-driver!” she called out. “Have you seen it?”   
  
She heard her own voice echoing. No one was in the throne room. “Oh! He must be out at the ports with the troops!” she remembered aloud. Catra and Scorpia were being sent out on their tech-gathering mission for her. Ah, yes, Hordak had said something about “making an example” of Catra in front of the other Force Captains and had wanted the majority of the soldiers to attend. Entrapta had been left to her own devices, as usual. She didn’t know what kind of “example” he wanted to make. Catra was set just to go on a scouting mission and Scorpia had insisted upon being her personal bodyguard.   
  
Hordak talked big about the Crimson Waste being a place from which no one returned, but Entrapta was sure he was just being dramatic. He liked to puff himself up and be big and scary. According to her data, the area was merely uncharted and, after all, hadn’t Scorpia’s family come from there? It probably wasn’t nearly as deadly as advertised. Catra would return with something awesome in no time!   
  
“Oh, what’s this?” Entrapta said to herself as she spied the little baked berry-tart on the right arm of Hordak’s throne. “What do you make of it, Emily? Did my staff leave it for me or for him?”   
  
Her stomach growled. “Oh, they know I come in here all the time! And why would they leave a present for Hordak? He only eats the extras off my plate when I insist on sharing. They must have left me a little pick-me-up. So sweet of them!”   
  
With that, Entrapta picked up the little tart in a tendril of her hair and popped it into her mouth.   
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Doomberries: Part 2**   
  
  
The wrench dropped from her trembling hand. Hordak turned sharply as it clattered on the sanctum floor.   
  
“Sorry,” Entrapta said. “It slipped.” She picked it up with her hair.   
  
Hordak grunted and turned his attention back to a console. “Is the generator secure?” he asked.   
  
“Not just yet,” she answered. “I’ve been feeling kind of funny all day.”   
  
“Funny?”   
  
Emily beeped beside her.   
  
“Weak, a bit dizzy. I don’t know why. I slept last night.”   
  
“I need you at optimal performance,” Hordak intoned. “If you must take a rest, do so.”   
  
“I suppose I’m due for a cold. It’s been a long time since I’ve been sick. I know that shows of weakness are discouraged in the Horde. I promise it won’t be anything major. I’ll just make myself some soup, okay?”   
  
“Do whatever you need to do. Time is a factor.”   
  
Imp flew down from the ceiling pipes, perched himself in front of Hordak. He let out a little screech.   
  
“What is this about?” he asked.   
  
Imp gesticulated and pointed.   
  
“Hmm?” He grunted and turned around. “Entrapta?”   
  
Entrapta had fallen to her knees and was propping herself up on her hair. “I’m…I’m okay,” she insisted.   
  
Hordak’s eyes widened. He didn’t know if it was his imagination, but for a moment, she looked transparent – like a hologram or the ghosts in Etherian myths. She snapped back to being whole, but shivered violently.   
  
“You are most certainly _not _okay!” Hordak said, striding over to her. He braced his arms beneath her small form and helped her lift herself up. She swayed and he caught her. “Where is your bed?”   
  
“Do you mean my quarters or the mattress I set up in here?”   
  
“In here. There is no one outside of here to keep an eye on you. I could have assigned Force Captain Scorpia to the duty if she did not choose to follow the pathetic liar.”   
  
“Oh, you mean Catra. They’ll be back s…”   
  
She stated to fade again.   


Hordak laid her down in the nest of blankets and pillows she’d made in a corner of the laboratory. Imp followed, flapping his wings with a moan. Emily trundled over and beeped worriedly.   
  
“When did this start?” Hordak asked Entrapta, more worry coming through in his voice than he wanted to. He wished to maintain a professional composure.   
  
“This morning. I really think that this is just a cold, Hordak.”   
  
“It is most certainly not a cold! You are… fading. I have never seen anything like this.”   
  
“Fading?”   
  
“Take a look at yourself.”   
  
He guided her right hand out before her. Her eyes got wide just as she “phased” for a few seconds.   
  
“What is this?! Hordak growled. “Are you…some kind of hologram? An advanced AI program? A spy program of the Rebellion?”   
  
Entrapta’s eyes were pinpoints as she became whole again. Her jaw hung. “Hordak…this is bad! This is really, really bad!”   
  
“Out with it!” He clenched his talons, at the end of frustration. Something was happening to his scientific asset – his lab partner, and he had no understanding of it, much less any idea of how to fix it.   
  
He wouldn’t admit it, but seeing the fear in this little Etherian’s eyes struck him. It frightened him.   
  
Entrapta sprang upright to a sitting position and grabbed his shoulders with her hair. “DON’T EAT ANY BERRY-TARTS!” she demanded.   
  
“What?”   
  
“And don’t let Imp eat any, either!”   
  
She was panicking.   
  
“Stop straining yourself!” Hordak demanded.   
  
“Where’s my recorder?” Entrapta asked. “This is a fascinating development…something I’ve been interested in studying…. I just never thought I’d be the subject. Ah…here it is.”   
  
She pulled the device out of the bulk of one ponytail with a lock of hair. “Fright Zone Log,” she said into it, “Day… 101? Yeah, Day 101. It appears I have unwittingly consumed doomberries in the form of a baked tart.” She sighed and gave Hordak a sad, yet flat look. “I am feeling weak and a bit feverish. Progression of the poisoning has reached the fading stage. My physical form is already losing integrity. I will log until I am unable to. This will be my final journal, to be utilized by others as it will be a log recording my death.”   
  
Hordak stared at her as she clicked the off button.   
  
“WHAT IS GOING ON?!” he yelled, punching a spare pillar. Did she just say that she was dying?   
  
Entrapta looked away as she pulled a blanket up to her chest and curled up. She tipped her mask down, just not wanting to deal with this.   
  
“Entrapta, tell me what is happening,” Hordak asked smoothly, calmly.   
  
“Doomberries,” she said after a pause.   
  
He bent down and tipped up her mask. There were tears in her eyes.   
  
“I found a berry-tart on the arm of your throne,” she confessed. “When you were out at the ports. I wandered into the throne room looking for you and there it was. I thought that the kitchen staff left it out for me, since…you usually don’t eat sweets unless you’re sharing with me.” She closed her eyes. “Apparently, there has been an assassination attempt on you.”   
  
“So, you have been poisoned.”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
Emily settled down beside the bed and nudged her shoulder. Imp scuttled about and sniffed.   
  
“Is there any treatment? Any cure?”   
  
Entrapta looked away and attempted to put her mask back down. Hordak stopped her, holding the mask.   
  
“There must be a cure,” Hordak said. “Otherwise, how much do you know of this type of poisoning? Perhaps you can give me an overview of the affected organs and how the toxin affects them. Horde technology is suited to…replacement parts on some organic beings. Organic transplants are also an option.”   
  
Entrapta shook her head. “Doomberries are magical in nature and tied to space and time. They are very rare. I don’t know how any got into the Fright Zone. They affect a victim’s entire body.” She looked up at him very seriously. “I will be effectively erased from existence. You’ll remember me, but… nothing will be left. I’ll just fade. I won’t even leave my body or the clothes on me behind. It’s a rather clean way to go, I guess… and it’s not very painful. I’m just…tired. Very tired.”   
  
She did another phase.   
  
“Entrapta!”   
  
She phased back. “I’m sorry, Hordak.”   
  
“I cannot accept this,” he said sternly. “We are close to a breakthrough on the portal. You are not expendable.”   
  
Entrapta started climbing out of bed. “I can…I can continue to work on it. I’d better get to work. I don’t have very long.”   
  
Hordak pushed her back down into the bed by the shoulder, perhaps a little too roughly.   
  
“Oof!”   
  
“No. You stay. I will find some way to fix this.”   
  
“I’ve heard that there is one cure,” Entrapta said.   
  
Hordak’s ears perked.   
  
“But… it won’t work for me.”   
  
“Why ever not? Is the cure incompatible with your physiology?”   
  
Entrapta balled up her blanket in her hands nervously. She petted Imp and Emily with her hair. “The cure has to do with emotional ties,” she said softly. “Victims of doomberry poisoning have been brought back when people have cried for them.”   
  
“Cried?”   
  
“Tears. Shed tears.”   
  
“That sounds… incredibly pathetic.”   
  
“It isn’t logical, but it is the way the magic is tied. At least that’s what Empress Futura told me.” She held up a tendril of her hair. “Oh, I know! Maybe we can get her to help me! She likes me!”   
  
Entrapta immediately put another tendril of hair to her chin. “No…no… Timely is too far away and the desert quicksand swallows skiffs. Futura has to expect you and make a way for you to even get into the kingdom and the sandstorms knock away any technological communication…we’d never reach her in time.”   
  
“In time?”   
  
“I’ll be gone in less than 24 hours.”   
  
Hordak grunted.   
  
“Emily can’t cry for me. One of the disadvantages of being a robot.”   
  
Emily gave her a sad, low beep.   
  
“It is okay, Emily,” Entrapta said, trying to reassure her.   
  
She looked up at Hordak. “Catra and Scorpia are my friends. They cannot be recalled, can they?”   
  
Hordak was already looking at a screen. “They have disappeared. Tracing devices tend to lose their strength in the Crimson Waste.”   
  
Hordak turned back to her. “You have tears in your eyes. You have already wept for yourself.”   
  
“It doesn’t work that way,” Entrapta said sadly. “It doesn’t work if one cries for oneself. It’s another that must shed tears for the victim.”   
  
“Do you know anyone else that could be contacted and brought before you?”   
  
Entrapta hugged her shoulder. The mask was now firmly down. “N-No, she said hesitantly. “My family is dead. My friends…I… I’m not good at making friends. I thought I had friends for a while, but… the Princesses…they abandoned me. And Catra and Scorpia aren’t here.”   
  
“Rest, Entrapta. I will find a way to maintain your life.”   
  
With that, he left the room. As he stepped into his private chambers, he heard Entrapta behind him, back in the sanctum, speaking into her recorder.   
  
“This is the Last Will and Testament of Es’tra Vesselak, Princess of Dryl…”   
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Doomberries: Part 3**

He could not punish the kitchen staff for their treachery. When Hordak had stormed into the area reserved for Entrapta’s staff, he’d found it empty. He gathered reports from watchmen that they were last seen at the supply-docks on their usual rounds to get their stock. A skiff was reported stolen soon afterward. Hordak sent out hunters along with the standard robot-drones. Ideally, he wanted the traitors brought back alive, “in-one-piece” being optional. They’d not be when he was done with them.   
  
As the day wore on, Entrapta’s fades became more frequent. She was tired, but deliberate sleep was not an option for her. She seemed to want to stay awake for as long as possible, diligently recording the details of her deterioration as well as making notes on her portal-theories. She passed out a few times from dizziness. Imp somehow managed to find some seltzer-water somewhere in the Fright Zone and set a glass of it with a straw down beside her. She didn’t feel like eating.   
  
Hordak called various units into his sanctum one by one among everyone who even vaguely knew Entrapta. Lonnie from Catra’s squad knew her, but didn’t know her well enough to have any feelings one way or another over the Princess being ill. Hordak found that yelling and demands didn’t work when Kyle, who said that he would be likely to cry if given a little time watching her, became too nervous and merely stuttered and clenched his teeth in fear.   
  
The tears had to be genuine, Entrapta said, not forced, and couldn’t be overshadowed by feelings like fear. According to all she knew about doomberries, the only antidote to the poison was freely-given grief.   
  
Rogelio, who had worked with her for a brief period in the same capacity as Kyle was subject to a different problem. His kind had structures in their eyes for moistening the eyeballs, but nothing set up that connected it to emotional distress; therefore he was physically incapable of crying for her. Even if he had the correct equipment, he was another who did not know Entrapta well.   
  
In his private chambers, away (hopefully) from where the Princess could hear him, Hordak pounded his fists into metal worktables and threw a wrench across the room.   
  
He could feel nothing but anger at this…this…injustice! He was not a just man by any stretch of the imagination, although he used the false image as a peoples’ champion as propaganda for keeping power. This situation was different than his various conquests over weaker creatures – the injustices he could dismiss. No, not at all. He could not help but think that it was impossibly unfair that the passing of a mind as brilliant as hers would not be mourned – or even particularly noticed!   
  
It did not seem right at all to him that she had not a single friend who could help her right now. She’d lived alone all of her life and it didn’t seem to be entirely by choice. How could the idiots of this world reject her so often and thoroughly? Did they not know what they had? They had no idea what they were losing!   
  
Hordak, himself, had little use for company, but that was because of what he was. He was a being bred to battle and to conquest. As a general, a leader and a dictator, he could not afford the luxury of connections. He used them frequently to bring his enemies to their knees, such as the recent bargaining with Queen Angella for her surrender in exchange for her daughter’s freedom. Princess Glimmer had escaped due to gross incompetence – mostly on the part of Shadow Weaver, he’d decided, but the queen was ready to go to his prisons, even to lose her life.   
  
In the end, he had gotten someone better, someone he wished to keep.   
  
Sons and daughters were unknown among his kind, as were mothers and fathers, husbands, wives and lovers. They were all “brothers” under Horde Prime, and antagonistic siblings at that, when they weren’t acting as-one in the fight. Hordak knew that he was feared, not loved, and sought to maintain that status.   
  
Entrapta was different. She displayed friendly behavior despite how many times she had apparently been betrayed or forgotten.   
  
It wasn’t right that he was the only person to feel anything significant regarding her predicament. Such an asset deserved better. Such an amazing mind deserved more.   
  
Even if he was inclined to such displays of emotion as grief and weeping, he was, much like Rogelio, incapable of the task. His ocular implants did not come equipped with tear ducts. Imp was the same way. Hordak had replaced the creature’s weak eyes when he’d installed his voice-box.   
  
He had exhausted his resources. All he could do upon returning to his sanctum was to approach the corner where Entrapta had her nest of bedding. Her recorder was on the floor by her side as she struggled for breath. She was faded. She wasn’t even popping back and forth between being full-fleshed and phased anymore. She looked like a ghost and Hordak could have sworn that he saw the outlines of her bones beneath her semi-transparent clothes.   
  
She looked up at him. “Hurts more than I thought it would,” she whispered. “I suppose it would with my atoms ripping apart.”   
  
Emily gave a low beep from a dark corner. Imp was sitting atop her, his yellow eyes alight in the dark.   
  
Hordak knelt down and braced an arm beneath her back.   
  
“Hordak?”   
  
“I am not hurting you, am I?”   
  
“No.”   
  
“I couldn’t find anyone to help you. This is a regret.”   
  
“Don’t worry,” Entrapta choked out. “I finished some notes for you on the portal. They’re…in my notebook… And you can just release Emily into the wild if you don’t want to deal with her. She’ll be fine on her own, I think.”   
  
Hordak held what was left of her and closed his eyes. His ears drooped and, without warning, he opened his mouth and made a strange clicking sort of noise. _Chk-chk-chk._   
  
_Chk-chk-chk._   
  
If anyone besides the fading Entrapta, who had her eyes closed and was slipping into sleep and Imp, who didn’t find this particularly strange, could see him, Hordak, would have looked like a man in some kind of deep pain with his arched back and his skyward titled chin.   
  
Gingerly, he laid Entrapta down, stood up and walked away, back to his private chambers. His head hung and the end of his cape dragged upon the floor. His ears hung and twitched and he couldn’t stop himself from making that _chik-chik_ vocalization. He clenched his fists.   
  
An image came to his mind – a memory. He was on a battlefield on the dark side of a tidally-locked planet where the inhabitants had a level of technological advancement that rivaled that of the Horde. They had advanced weapons and were most aggressive. They could have been rivals - all they lacked was a space-program. In other words, conquering the small world was a difficult task. Horde shock-troops all had artificial eyes, well-suited to any conditions, but the natives moved with greater agility in their home-darkness. Hordak lost many of the lesser brothers under his command taking the rock.   
  
That was where he’d heard the _chk-chk_ sound before: One of his able-bodied troops was comforting a dying soldier on the field. They’d been in a unit together for some time and it seemed they had grown attached to each other. He’d known each of them by serial number, although he’d forgotten their names. He’d hauled the able-bodied man up by his collar and told him to leave the doomed to die and to get back to the fight.   
  
Hordak put a hand to the side of his face. “Could it be that I am…_mourning_?” he asked himself. He immediately felt ashamed. Such behavior was beneath him – or should have been.   
  
He sat down and took a pause to think for a while. At long last, he returned to the sanctum. It was past 24 hours now. Entrapta would be gone. He could only hope that she left enough of her studies behind.   
  
He grit his teeth. He did not want to see that empty bed. Already, the sanctum seemed to clang with his every footstep – echoing and lonely.   
  
He could not help his gaze turning to Entrapta’s area.   
  
His eyes widened and his ears perked. She was still there! She was there and her body was no longer translucent!   
  
Hordak rushed over and immediately knelt down. He grasped her shoulder.   
  
“Mmm…” she hummed sleepily. “I don’t wanna get up, Mama. Tell the tutor to go away.”   
  
“Entrapta? Entrapta!”   
  
Hordak braced an arm beneath her back again and helped her up. She opened her eyes.   
  
“Oh, hiiii, Hordak,” she slurred. “You didn’t do the first portal-test without me, did you?”   
  
“No, I didn’t,” Hordak answered. He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He quickly extinguished it. With his other hand, he examined her, touching her cheek, her shoulder, her hair.   
  
“Why ya touchin’ me all over?” Entrapta drunkenly asked. “You know I don’t like that.”   
  
“You’re here,” he said. “You’re here.”   
  
“Alternate displays of grief work, apparently,” she said with a smile. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be tears…just sadness. You were making funny noises, but I think you were sad.”   
  
“You’re alive…good.”   
  
“Dizzy…”   
  
“You’re not in working condition yet. Just rest.”   
  
“Okie dokie.” With that Entrapta wrapped herself in a hair-cocoon and turned over to get back to sleep.   
  
_________________________  


  
  
Later, the scientist-Princess remembered nothing of her ordeal. She found records of it on her recorder, but they cut off after a certain point.   
  
“You were very sick,” was the only thing that Hordak told her. “You recovered.”   
  
“But… How?” Entrapta asked, hanging her legs off a worktable she was perched on, swinging them. “Who cried over me?”   
  
“It doesn’t matter,” Hordak intoned. “We have work to do.”   
  
Entrapta smiled and happily got back to analyzing data.


End file.
